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When the dark let me go, the first thing I heard was sirens.
I was standing in some kind of warehouse: by the weak orange glow of the streetlights beyond the window at the room's far end I could see that the walls were made of bare concrete. The air was cold and damp but my body was warm and clammy: I was breathing hard, like I'd been running.
Where was I? How had I got there? The last I remember…
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